Thirsty Rose
by InfiniteEscuro
Summary: Thirsty for violence, sex or whiskey? Who knows? Cass goes on a little outting into the Commonwealth to cool off that well-known temper of hers. This is a branch off from my other FNV story, with the same Courier and crew and general story for why they're in the Commonwealth.


_Sometimes, for reasons I couldn't really fathom, Cass would just be absent for a good in-game day or so from the Penthouse suite of Lucky 38 when I went back to drop off supplies and generally switch followers. I like to think she was getting air from dealing with the others, and that she would still do this kinda thing post-Mojave._

The Commonwealth's weather really was incredibly different than the Mojave.

The heat alone was a vast improvement, or rather the lack there of. Sure, the Commonwealth got cold some nights, but it was better than overheating and sweating during even the nights in good ol' Nevada. Something as simple as having clean clothes was something of a luxury in many places nowadays, but the heat of the Mojave made you yourself work against it. But it seemed already to be easier to find such things in the Commonwealth without needing to be rich and well off; or risk a mirelurk fight by the river when you're dressed in only your birthday suit. Again. Best just hope you're not drunk the next time it happens.

But then again, it wasn't ever long before they were dirtied all over again.

"STUPID, WEAK HUMAN!"

"Yer the one bleeding out!"

Cass dived over a counter, rolling heavily onto her hands and knees and scrambling to stand proper, turning quick. Her eyes narrowed, teeth clenched as she crossed her arms and turned her head sharply away from a wooden board thrown at her; it hurt when it hit her arms, given the lack of her riot armour. She'd not had the patience to armour up today, she was wearing her usual get up.

The force of the hit still made her stumble a little, eyes quickly moving back to the lumbering Super Mutant she'd encountered. It wasn't the only one, just the fastest one; she'd put a .45-70 round through two other big ugly heads before this one had reached her. She'd not quite heard him coming over her own Brush Gun until he was too close; super strength in the legs made for essentially super speed.

Tough as these bastards were, she'd put a shot through his stomach before he'd disarmed her; she'd made sure to aim herself to throw her rifle outside the lobby of the dilapidated building they were fighting in. The bastard was too big to really use it effectively as anything other than a club, but it was just to be safe. Metal would hurt whether it was moving at thousands of feet per second or not when it hit.

With breathing room, she huffed for breath discreetly as he ran wildly at her. These lot seemed stupid even compared to the usual brutes, never mind the, ah… _folks_ in Jacobstown. She'd been on edge when Six brought her there, sure, but not enough to miss the smooth speech and intellect of Markus.

These Super Mutants were nothing like them. There wasn't any semblance of tactics to anything they did, some of them barely even spoke. But, even without a weapon or brains, a Super Mutant was still a Super Mutant. She rolled her neck and ignored blood rolling over her lips from her nose. She motioned with her hands as the mutant reached the counter, then sharply leapt aside as he lunged over it for her; barely dodging his long reach when he spread his arm aside and grabbed for her. As he was passing, she'd been grabbing a revolver from her hip and drawing it with speed; just as the mutant hit the ground, just as it was a stationary target for a second, she smirked.

Then she pulled the trigger three times and it fell flat before even getting up, blood running from the back of its head. She didn't lower her aim, keeping her arms steady as she looked for any sign of movement, slowly stepping aside; this time her ears were sharp and searching. She didn't hear anything else approaching, but she did hear shifting. The mutant groaned deep and tried to move. Cass's boot planted its head back on the ground, and her gun opened that hole wider as she shot again. She could see its brain.

"Fuck it." She muttered, shrugging.

 _BANG BANG_

"Need to get a 44." She groaned to herself, now able to barely see the floor through the mutant's head. She kept a hold of the .357 in one hand, the other cradling her chest as she cringed. Nothing felt _broken_ , just sore. She'd still taken a good hit from the thing's board when it first got to her, but after that, it was just her arms aching from the throw. Super Mutant or not, she was too tough for one hit from a wooden plank to do any lasting damage. Besides the bloody nose from her own gun hitting her face before she could throw it, she maybe had some bruises at the very most.

Sore bruises, but just bruises.

Flicking her wrist to snap the revolver's reloaded cylinder back into place, Cass holstered the pistol and crouched to pick her hat back up, rubbing the blood from her face with the other wrist. Grumbling in her throat, she brushed her hat of dirt as she walked out into the street, scanning the buildings and corners.

She narrowed her eyes, placing her hat back on her ruffled, messy head slowly as she picked up her rifle with the other hand. Taking proper hold and shouldering her gun, Cass scowled.

"Hate cities." She muttered, stepping backwards slowly, ready and willing to snap into an aim and kill something. It was a strange thing. Cities were cluttered and filled with cover, but that went both ways; she wasn't exactly lumbering or clumsy as long as she wasn't pissed, but she wasn't a ghost. Not like Six could be; she got into the fucking _Legion's_ camp and killed every one of those slaver's without being seen. The crazy bitch killed dozens of legionaries, including the head Bull himself, just to have privacy when she put a bullet in Benny's head. Freeing slaves had been a bonus to all that.

Cass could maybe slip by a group of Raiders if she had the proper cover. In cities, she felt like the one being stalked too often. They weren't like the open wastes of the Mojave where, with eyes like hers, you'd see the danger coming long before you had to have a gun out. At least, she'd learned to improve herself that way once she'd been given a rifle rather than a shotgun. It was usually unneeded when she was out and about with one of the other's; Six and Boone saw Radroaches flutter their little wings from fifty metres away. Veronica was walking cover in that Power Armour of hers.

But, Six had taught her many things, most of it second hand experience of just travelling together. One of those things was how to spot the sneakier threats.

Turning sharply and lifting her rifle, she found herself glaring, though it was an irritation directed inwards; out of spite, she pulled the trigger and blew a seagull to high hell. A fucking bird had her on edge. Her sigh was almost growled even as she tried to breathe deeply and calm herself. She went about reloading as she shook her head, "I need a fucking drink."

But that wasn't going to happen yet. Not only was she doing her best to not actually get _drunk_ , never mind stay that way if possible, but she was also in no position to be resting out in the city alone; the least of the reasons being her lack of alcohol. She'd have loved to have someone watching her back, so she could rest occasionally, but at the same time she'd not exactly encouraged it when she stormed out from their temporary settlement and almost socked Six for being worried about her going it alone.

Poor thing, but she understood the need to cool off with excessive violence, alcohol or sex. Maybe all three, depends on how the night goes. Then again maybe she didn't; the crazy fuck could enjoy trying to tame a Deathclaw and go pale at the suggestion of chatting up a hooker.

That said, there wasn't any deep reason for Cass to be so pissed off. On top of the lack of whiskey, one of the pack brahmin in her caravan had flipped out and kicked her because she'd not stopped a Bloatfly from getting within twenty metres of the pens. She was hurt, but in her own angry way.

"Ungrateful cow." She muttered to herself, trying to remain scowling though sniggering at her little wordplay. It wasn't her fault their resident sniper was sleeping off the fatigue of almost twenty straight hours watching the streets. Well, one of the snipers; Six had just been cleaning her guns.

Despite her bad mood, she made sure to stay sharp and alert as she moved through the streets. She stuck close to the walls and hunched just a little bit. Her coat and hat's colour weren't exactly perfect camouflage, but they were close enough to the sun-bathed buildings to offer her at least a second of confusion. Which, hopefully, would coin her the first shot if she ran into more unfriendly creatures.

Sadly, oh so sadly, she didn't run into anything else before noticing a neon sign.

"Goodneighbor?" Cass asked herself. She rolled her eyes and fake-gagged. Nevertheless, her ribs hurt, her arms ached, her feet were tired, and her throat was parched. May as well settle down for a while. She rolled her neck, keeping her rifle handy; in case the name wasn't really telling of the place. Hopefully it wasn't. Goodneighbor sounded worse than Little Lamplight on the list of overly friendly names.

She walked down the street following the signs. Glancing around at the corpses littering the way, she started to feel that sour mood lessening. At the same time her trigger finger was twitching. She eyed the blue, metal door, scanning the wooden wall around it. Above the door was another neon sign of Goodneighbor. Cass shrugged, walking over and lowering her rifle in one hand; the other just barely edged the door open for her to peek in. She eased it further as she scanned those inside that hadn't yet saw her entrance; a couple makeshift pipe pistols on a couple unarmoured settlers, a submachine gun in the arms of a suited man off to the right by a storefront. Within the store beside that was a sleek, humanoid robot that Cass scowled at the sight of, stepping back and barely closing the door. They'd encountered an Assaultron on their journey to the Commonwealth. It'd meant two days of maintenance on Veronica's armour to make the left arm moveable again; she wasn't keen to find out what that fucking beam would do to _her_ without armour on.

It'd taken Six's Anti-Material rifle to the head to put the thing down, her own rounds had only dented the armour. Sure, with just a few shots well-placed it'd be toast, but that was countered by how damn mobile they could be. It was hard to hit the chinks in its armour when it wouldn't stop running around. At least, for her. Boone and Six could do that no problem, but she'd always had a knack for shotguns more than rifles.

Then again, did she grab a pulse grenade before heading out?

She almost stumbled when the door was wrenched open fully, letting go almost immediately and lifting her rifle with a glare. The barrel stopped an inch from where the nose usually was; on Ghouls, that was just something of a hole in the face.

He lifted his hands casually through a rough chuckle, "Easy, cowgirl. Can't have armed wanderers blocking the door," He winked alongside his smile. For all the shuddering disgust that went through her, Cass didn't quite pull the trigger. The ghoul eased through that smile in their usual, difficult sounding speech; though his voice was noticeably… smoother, than most ghouls, "no matter how pretty they are."

"Flattery does nothing but make my finger twitch, sailor." Cass smoothed right back through her scowl; taking note of the hat. Pirates probably wore those, if she remembered what few pictures she'd seen in what few books she'd glanced at.

"Best not to have it twitching where it is now, huh?" One arm slowly moved to brush the barrel down, and Cass let it fall. Her eyes flicked aside to those two settlers and that suited guy; all three of which had their guns lowering from her as the Ghoul stepped back. He waved an arm into the settlement, motioning with his head along with it, "Welcome to Goodneighbor, sister. We're of the people, for the people." His smirk had become something more like an actual smile, black eyes crinkled, "Ya feel me?"

Eyebrow raised, Cass slung her rifle's strap over her shoulder, letting it hang at her back; easy to pull up by the side for a quick shot or two. She sighed through her words, "Of the people, for the people?" She rolled her eyes, "Oh, great..."

"Hehehe, I can tell I'm gonna like you already." He said, stepping back slowly, arms spread to indicate the town around him, "Just think of this town as your home away from home." His smile faded into more of a serious frown. One arm lowered to his side as the other grazed his chest, vaguely tapping it, "So long as you remember who's in charge."

As he turned that frown sharply into a smile and waved offhanded, turning and walking off, Cass furrowed her brow. What, had she put her gun between the mayor's eyes? What a fantastic first impression. Next time she does that to someone she'll make sure to pull the trigger, so people know she's not just being intimidating. She's got the guts and the will to do an execution when needed.

She couldn't help eyeing the Assaultron in one of those two shops, one that she now realised was similarly eyeing her. And it was behind the counter. And was the only thing in the shop besides all the weapons. Cass glanced down to the holster on her hip.

She liked the .357, sure, but it wasn't her first option for a sidearm. And against the big players of the Wasteland like Super Mutants or, hell, _Assaultrons_ , something stronger was needed to get past the armour. Whether that armour was a metal chassis or just thick skin and strong bones.

Maybe a look in, uh, _Kill or Be Killed_ could fix her lacking firepower in the pistol department.

Stepping up to the counter with a noticeable caution, Cass was greeted by a voice holding much more life to it than the mechanical droning she'd heard from the last Assaultron.

"Well, hello." The robot's voice was quite feminine. If asked, Cass would probably describe it in a roundabout way of saying 'Sultry'. The slight tilt of the robot's head to the side made her think of a side-on, smug glance for some reason. She had a hand over her holster, not in the least hiding it. The bot knew what it was, "Everything here is guaranteed to injure, main, or kill at your discretion." She spoke with a slight lilt in her voice, something similar to the flare a salesman would use; if far more _bored_ sounding. Cass took a breath to speak, but the robot wasn't done; it had something to clarify first, "Except me. I only kill when I want to."

The lilt in _that_ sentence was more akin to an offhanded deviousness that made Cass suspect that face-laser thing might've been charging subtly. She found her grip on her gun tightening a little, though she hopefully kept her face resting on bitch, rather than hostile, "Last Assaultron I met wasn't friendly enough to warn me like that."

"Assaultron." It droned with palpable dismissal, "That's what my makers called me. But as far as I'm concerned, I'm a woman." It made another tilting look, as if to indicate her wares, "And I run a store that sells very large guns." Tilting its head, Cass got the impression that if it had a face she'd be seeing lidded eyes and a frown, "So, what'll it be?"

"Any of those very large guns happen to be a .44?" Cass asked, drawing her .357 and placing it on the counter. The robot huffed a noise at her and she almost felt it smirking.

"Anything that can kill a man, I sell." It paused, almost shrugging, "Except suicidal depression. That is unfortunately _not_ packageable."

Cass ignored how wistful it sounded and slid her .357 over as the robot turned to its wares.

Not even a minute later, she stepped out the store, _backwards_ and with her eyes on the Assaultron, in the midst of holstering a .44 magnum and loading up the bandolier on her waist with .44 rounds; she'd sold the gun, but not the ammo for it. She'd used quite a lot of her caps, but there was more than enough for a drink.

As she turned the corner, enjoying the slightly heavier pull on her belt, she noticed a sign above a set of double doors. _Memory Den_ , the former in neon red above the latter. It sounded interesting, amazing even; not to her of course, but she noticed these things for Six. She could be a good friend when she tried. What interested her was the sound of glasses and the smell of a good night in the door to her left; she glanced up to the sign.

"The third rail." She read aloud, shrugging, "Could be a bar, I guess." She hopped up the stairs and opened the metal door, hearing the mingling of voices and clinking of glasses. She heard the hooting of drunks and heard the singing of jazz. She smirked, "Just what I need."

Slowly she moved down the stairs, looking through the few dozen patrons, trying her best to scope out guns and such just in case she got rowdy. But, despite it, she found her ears honing onto the music, eyes trailing to the sparkling red dress of the singer on a small stage rather than to see if the barstools were nailed down or not.

"Might not even need to get wasted for her." Cass mumbled, shifting her hat a little lower over her admittedly staring eyes. She noticed a few people quieting down or outright stopping to watch her enter; she was a heavily armed woman with a cowboy hat. It made sense that she'd draw some looks. Most of those same looks managed to realise where her eyes were and that her hands hung carelessly at her sides before they turned back to their conversations and drinks.

Stopping by the bottom of the stairs, Cass listened to the woman humming during a short instrumental of her song, music projected perfectly from the stage's speakers, and tilted her hat up so her eyes weren't shadowed. She walked towards the bar slowly, managing to turn her eyes off the raven-haired singer.

"Oi." The Mr. Handy bot begun, accent distinctly cockney. There was a union jack printed beneath its middle eye and a bowler hat on its 'head', "We got beer."

"You've got whiskey too." Cass pointed out, her trained eyes easily spotting the bottle behind the bot as she was sitting.

"Costs more than the beer." It warned, not at all trying to dissuade her.

As if it could. Cass just raised an eyebrow, "I don't care." As she was leaning onto the counter she very slightly flinched, arm moving for a second to cradle her chest.

"Ah, dulling pain is it?" The bot asked, not looking as one of its mechanical arms went for the bottle and the other set a glass on the bar. Its middle eye bobbed as if nodding, "Aye, stronger stuff'll help 'ere then." It lifted the bottle, removed the lid, then paused, "Five caps, cash up front; no tabs."

Without pause or concern, Cass dropped twenty, "Gimmie the bottle."

He hesitated for a second, and she dropped down another five on top. He placed the bottle in the glass's stead, moving it back to a table behind him. He scooped the caps away, "Pleasure, guv."

"Sure." Cass idly agreed, picking the whiskey bottle up and staring mesmerised at the swirling bronze within. Tilting her head back, she started gulping. She heard a few whispers about it as she drank, ignoring them easily; her ears zeroed in on the dulling music. She sighed out a breath slowly as she lowered the half-empty bottle, the burn oh so pleasant and quite missed. She'd emptied her canteen days ago and they'd not exactly scavenged for drink yet, it wasn't a high priority to all the others.

Cheers and clapping were unable to drown out the sultry tones of that red-dressed singer, "That's right, Goodneighbor. I'm the one you're lookin' for." She chuckled, and Cass decidedly felt her eyes drawn over. She wasn't drunk yet, so, she must've been right earlier, "We'll be right back after a short break."

"Beautiful as always, Mags…" The bot said as it floated over to the end of the bar nearer the stage.

"Thanks, Charlie. Can I get some water?"

"No need to even ask. I always set aside a stash of the good stuff just for you."

"You are _such_ a sweetheart, Charlie. Thank you."

Cass glanced aside as "Mags" sat on the barstool one away from her, the empty seat between them likely having something to do with her resting glare and big weapons. Never the less, Cass was able to wear other expressions; especially now that she was rapidly cheering up with whiskey in her. She flicked her hat higher and turned aside; Mags noticed, looking over with something of a smile and pout in one.

"Hmm? What's the matter, sweetheart?" Cass found herself putting on a smile she was sure she usually saw on Six. It was a roguish thing, one that she knew could shake knees if used right. She wouldn't exactly say her heart fluttered, but there was a heat there that was separate from the whiskey upon hearing 'sweetheart', "Don't tell me you didn't like the song?"

"Song was great." Cass idly waved that away; it _was_ , yeah, but she wasn't focussed on the music anymore. She shrugged her position, shifting her smirk into a better light; Six _had_ told her once that it was a good look, "Not sure if it was the best part of your performance or not though." She motioned up and down that sparkling dress with her bottle hand, showing off teeth for a second.

"Oh, thank you! A girl tries her best." She gave another, throaty little chuckle; stating afterwards, "Magnolia's the name, sweetheart."

"Cass." Taking a quick swig of whiskey from the bottle, Cass watched Magnolia's smile quirk higher.

"So, what brings a woman like you to my part of town?"

"I was thirsty." Cass muttered, keeping her smirk wide. She motioned with her bottle, "Not sure if I wanted a drink, a fight, or… something sweeter than the two." She trailed off, trying her best to let her look do the rest.

It took a few seconds of stewing in the words and smiling, as if basking in the attention, but Magnolia quickly hummed, "Flatterer, aren't you?" Not usually, but she'd travelled the wastes and towns with Six for the same number of years now. Magnolia nodded, "I think you and I are going to get along. Now," She sat straighter, turning her head aside and taking a sip of her water, "it's my turn to answer questions, right? What can I do for you?" The look in her eyes told Cass that she was well aware of every implication in her words.

"I'm more interested in what we could do for each other."

"Oh, really?" She asked, pausing for a second. Her voice lowered, "Go on…"

Smoothly, mid drink, Cass moved closer. She took up the seat between them, close enough to touch, but of course refraining. More words first, "You, me," She paused; gulped down the last of her bottle in a quick few seconds. Lowering the empty bottle with a happy hiss, sitting straight and looking down on Magnolia, she had her eyes lidded, "a _short_ walk under the streetlights…"

"And then what?" Oh she was interested alright, that look wasn't just amusement. She sat up straighter to match Cass, inching just a little closer. Leaning in and lowering her voice to match, Cass tilted her hat down; just barely casting their eyes in dimmer light.

"Music." She muttered simply. She lifted a hand to brush Magnolia's knee, whispering, "Or something sweeter sounding."

The sigh was quiet and pleasant in sound and feeling, Magnolia's breath coming over her face from their proximity, "Let me get my coat…"

Cass grinned and stood, taking Magnolia's hand and smoothly helping her up. She should thank Six at some point for accidently teaching her how to be so slick, but then that'd be a compliment that she couldn't quite veil properly. No reason to boost that ego, Veronica had done more than enough.

She'd stick to quenching her thirst and silently thanking the Courier.

She was falling back into the world, the forgotten haze of half-drunk sleepiness turning into a groggy groan as Cass opened her eyes. She was looking at a dim ceiling, feeling the prickle of Commonwealth cold at the tips of her toes, exposed outside of the messy covers as they were. She reached up to rub her eyes, rubbing her neck with the same hand as she pushed herself up onto an elbow, looking around the room. She spotted her scattered clothing and equipment; hat on the stand by the door, shirt and jacket flung over a chair, boots not far off, jeans and belt in a heap by the bed. Her rifle was leaning against the chair on which some of her attire was, and her .44 was by the bedside; placed for easy access if she remembered right. She couldn't quite remember anything other than heat and fun.

She sat up with a groan, covers barely over her lap as she stretched her arms and back. She heard a pleasant little hum from behind before arms were around her neck, a chin on her shoulder as her back was smothered by something soft.

"I knew there was something special about you." Magnolia mumbled, smiling wicked and teasing as she ran a hand down Cass's side, fingers dancing over her stomach and the abs lining it. Cass almost laughed off the cheesy words, but the little touches were blissful for the way the night had gone; she noticed a sparkling red dress laid out surprisingly neat on the dresser. Magnolia ran her other hand over Cass's back as she sat there and basked in it, "It's these powerful muscles of yours. My," She breathed, pausing as she ran her hands back up to wrap around Cass once more, "I could get used to looking at those."

"I guess that would depend how often I'm drunk in Goodneighbor." Despite the dismissive words, she sat there flexing discreetly for the raven-haired singer hanging over her. Magnolia hummed a smile.

"Don't be too much of a stranger." She muttered, sliding out of the bed around Cass; who watched her cross the room with lidded eyes. She walked right to her dress, sighing wistful, "I haven't been out on the town in… too long. Thank you." She looked over her shoulder with a genuine appreciation, and Cass was only a few steps back now. She was enough of a gentleman, for now, to help the lady back into her dress, if only to zip her up. As she was pulling up her jeans back across the room, with Magnolia watching her; eyes on her arms most of all, the singer spoke, "I'm afraid my first love is always going to be the stage, though. I hope you understand, I just… can't get too attached…"

Giving a smile over her shoulder, sliding her shirt on with a flare, Cass walked over slowly as she was buttoning it, "You'd be disappointed if you got attached anyway. I don't normally swing for our team unless I'm off my head."

"Oh, so you're still drunk is it?" She asked, motioning to Cass's face; brushing her cheek with a few fingertips, "You're still quite colourful, sweetheart."

She breathed sharply out her nose, looking aside and swinging her jacket on. With a shrug, Cass chuckled, "Maybe I've been convinced over the years to give this side more of a clear shot." With a shrug she walked to the bed, her and Magnolia coming oh so close as she did. In fact, for a second, she almost grabbed her by the hips all over, but resigned herself to a quick grope of that sparkly red ass instead.

"See you around Goodneighbor, sweetheart." She brushed her hand up Cass's chest, trailing over the visible skin from her haphazardly buttoned shirt. As it flicked off her chin, Magnolia looked to her lips and just smiled. Her eyes blinked back up to Cass's, "When I'm up there singing, I'll be thinking of you."

"That'll come in handy next time I'm in town."

Giving a final hum through a smile, Magnolia turned and walked out the room, waving casually as she shut the door and walked away down the hall. Cass breathed deep and let out a great big sigh through her own lingering smile. Something seems so inhuman about that woman, but that was too cheesy to even think without a gag.

As she was getting her boots on, Cass wondered on the time. It'd been late in the day when she'd got to the hotel with Magnolia after their little wander around the little town, but now she was completely uncertain what time it was. Maybe it was midnight, later; or rather earlier. Maybe a day has passed. If it has, she was sure Six was minutes away from kicking in Goodneighbor's door with her gun drawn. Or maybe Veronica would kick the thing of its hinges and march in like the tank she was. Maybe Boone was already lining up headshots.

Hopefully they'd be more tactful. But they'd "rescued" her from night-outs before.

Holster fixed back on her hip and rifle slung over her shoulder, Cass lifted her hat onto her head and walked out the door. Strolling down the stairs of the hotel, she almost swore that Magnolia's perfume lingered; who the hell even had perfume nowadays? That woman was a lucky find.

The second Cass exited the hotel into the fresh, Commonwealth air, she groaned through her smile. It was maybe two in the afternoon; she'd slept to the next day. At least her ribs didn't hurt anymore, and her arms didn't ache. Her feet weren't tired, and her throat was still wet.

Heh.

She could go home now.

"CASS! You bitch, I've been worried sick and I'm gonna fucking deck you for it!"

"Good afternoon, Six."

At least she'd have company on the way back.


End file.
